


Fly

by Nispedana



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:58:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nispedana/pseuds/Nispedana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT #1. In which Clarke tries to show Bellamy the beauty of something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly

PROMPT #1. In which Clarke shows Bellamy the beauty of something unexpected.

**Thanks for clicking the link~ Hope you enjoy. And thanks to Riv, Guest [6/2/2014] (lol I wish I knew what else to call you xD), and Bellarke 101 for the awesome prompts!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. I would’ve loved to tho, don’t we all?**

[PROMPT BY **RIV** ]

“Clarke showing Bellamy something beautiful from the natural world. And Bellamy really seeing it when she describes it

through her eyes as she explains the shapes and shades and ways she would like to capture it in a picture.”

 

*This was originally about flowers and sunsets. But then I changed my mind. xD Hope I did okay anyway~

**…**

**Fly**

 

Bellamy Blake rises to consciousness at the familiar sound of metal clacking not too far from where he lay. As his eyes adjust to get rid of the lethargic blur, he tries to visualize the last thing he remembers. And if he doesn’t know that sound too well, he probably would have smiled.

He shoots up from bed and whips his head to wherever the sound is from. It is the sound of a gun, no doubt, and his hand reflexively moves in the hopes of finding a gun, a knife, _anything_ to defend himself.

“Are you sure you want to be moving so abruptly?” Asks a voice he knows well and he immediately slumps back at the sudden dissipation of adrenaline. Bellamy absent-mindedly combs his hair back and wipes the remaining grime off his nose.

He remembers now, he’s still in the drop ship, forced back to sleep after he woke up to find her hammock empty probably a few hours prior. Silently, he pushes away the memory of the quick wash of terror that he almost succumbed to. But he pushes away the memory of the unexpectedly immense feeling of relief when he saw her walking even harder.  

He let out a sigh to compose himself again. “What are you doing with the gun, princess?”

“We’ve been bedridden for too long.” She says, with her rationalizing voice. “Supplies are almost out. We don’t know how long the grounders will be deferred by the bomb. And about half of the camp is already strong enough to collect again.”

He stares at her for a while, hoping that she sees his thoughts, namely: that it was a stupid ass decision that she made, and how stupid it was for her to make it without him. Clarke stares back, and he knows she understands. But as always, it doesn’t mean she agrees with him.

“You needed the rest.” She says calmly, hoping to get through to him without arguments, and sits down beside him like she did a few hours prior. Only this time she has a gun and she fiddles with it as she speaks. Either way, however, he feels an irrational surge of nerves that would baffle him for a while.

Bellamy heaved another sigh and stood up, patting invisible dirt off his pants. “Well, _I’m_ rested.” He says, glad that his voice’s timber is back, and walks out the drop ship. “And I’m coming with you.”

**…**

Clarke managed to convince Finn to go with the hunting party. It wasn’t easy, but it was a lot more logical to use the tracker for moving animals—rather than plants that wouldn’t go anywhere until the impending cold kills them. And it was too late to change his mind when he heard it wasn’t Jasper or Monty that would be accompanying her—it was Bellamy.

Granted, Clarke didn’t bother hiding her irritation when Finn was trying to talk her out of it. After all, Bellamy was _the_ best shooter in camp, so there was no need to worry. She understood that Finn must be feeling horrible after Raven broke up with him, and even if she was thankful he hadn’t made an awkward move on her yet (she wasn’t _blind_ ), but there were only irrational arguments she could take.

“You alright princess?” Bellamy asks as he walks a pace behind her. She shrugs.

“He’ll calm down eventually.” She says. “And go back to that always-optimistic attitude of his and we’ll all be friends again.”

“You really believe that?”

She pauses and feels the wind as Bellamy stands beside her, their shoulders touching. She turns to look at him. “Yes, I actually do.”

They stare ( _gaze,_ really) at each other for a few seconds—they’ve been doing that a lot lately, and in retrospect she is becoming fond of these moments. She is the first to break it by continuing on their trek, and too soon they hear strong rustle of leaves and the next thing she knows her back is forced to the tree and Bellamy’s arm keeping her in place as he surveyed the area with his gun ready to shoot at an instant.  

A wild boar half Bellamy’s size comes to running to them—no doubt hostile, and Bellamy shoots it down without a second thought. Relieved, he lets her go and she breathes heavily, silently apologizing to the pig for entering its territory and killing it. She can really relate to pre-nuclear tribes when they prayed to nature. She wonders if they should start thanking it too, for its bounties.

“Hey,” He asks tilting his head sidewards so they see eye-to-eye. She flinches in surprise. “Would be nice if you stop staring at the pig some time soon.”

“Y­-Yeah.” She mumbles and Bellamy let out than short scoff-like smile of his before heading to the pig to carry it on his back.

They enter an amicable silence then, with Bellamy concentrating on their path, the surroundings, and the additional weight on his back, while Clarke was keeping special eye out for scratch marks on the trees so they avoid any more encounters with wild animals. They got to the lake without any other occurrences and Clarke took as much seaweed as she could.

The silence was broken soon after they left the lake, by the sound of Bellamy slowing down. She turned to see he was waving his hand irritably and pausing his steps from time to time. “Bellamy?”

He stops what he’s doing and tries to ignore the little thing that is flying around him. But, seeing his eyes twitch at the two or so insects flying around him, his attempts are obviously done in vain.

Clarke couldn’t help but crack a smile. The great rebel leader Bellamy Blake helpless against creatures smaller than his thumb. It was then she caught herself and actually walked closer and see what they are. Her eyes glistened immediately at the realization.

“Is that a… blow fly?” Of course she saw flies before, particularly not too long ago when the virus the grounders sent them killed so many kids. But those were the times she could barely acknowledge the insects. Now it’s hovering about the carcass at Bellamy’s back. But more importantly—it’s making Bellamy make adorable faces.

Bellamy sends her a glare as his free hand continued in an attempt to shoo the insect away. She swears his eyes dilate a little when she laughs at his frustration. She raises her hand as if to surrender but then she slowly moved them somewhere near him, and gracefully, she catches one.

He is obviously waiting for her to get rid of it somehow but she only let it fly around the insides of her palm. “Would be great if it dies any time soon now.”

She smirks and carefully moves her hand so she can get the creature in the middle of her thumb and her pointing finger. It tries to shuffle away but she is carefully not to squash it. She quickly holds it closer so that it’s only a few inches away from his face.

His eyes widens slightly, his jaw tightens, and his head tilts backward at an almost invisible angle—but Clarke saw them all, and she cannot stop that teasing grin that quickly crept up her face.

“Are you _scared?_ ”

If Clarke isn’t Clarke she would’ve been scared of the scorn he forced himself to wear. “You must have hit your head on that tree pretty hard, princess.”

 _Yeah, no thanks to you._ She mumbles internally in amusement. But instead of saying so, she decides to continue teasing him. “Octavia might find them cute.”

“She chased blue glowing butterflies, Clarke.” He says sarcastically. Clarke, however, twitched a smile at the tone he used to utter her name. He is _so_ shaken right now. So she decides to feign a disapproving frown just to spite him.

“You say it as if flies aren’t as pretty as bioluminescent insects.”

He stares at her as if she just ate the insect.

She smiles at that and stands beside him, holding his opposite shoulder with her free hand. She almost cackles at the further tensing of his shoulders. He must really hate this fly. But alas, Clarke is dedicated to make him appreciate nature’s beauty—even if she has to use a meagre little fly.

But mostly she’s doing it because it’s amusing.

“Look at it closely.” She urges as she kept the fly a few inches away from his face. Don’t you think its shiny metallic color is alluring? The way it moves its arms… and its wings that practically has its own rainbows built inside?”

She has been expecting a funny disgusted look on his face when she turns to look at him, but then she realize that he has been staring at _her_ —with that soft disarming look—this whole time.

Her heart skips a beat and she immediately lets go of his shoulder, gulps, and looks down. Bellamy belatedly realizes this as well, and he finds his other arm scratching the back of his neck as if it will help calm the nerves. It never does, of course, and the amicable silence that is supposed to accompany them the way home changes into something a lot more awkward.

This time it is broken by Clarke some halfway back to camp. “If there were a lot of these left around—which I doubt—I’d want to collect them.” She says. “And put it inside the drop ship.”

Bellamy halts his steps and furrows his eyebrow. “For what?”

 “The larvae.” She says almost robotically as she walked. “They secrete this chemical called allantoin,” She pauses to mentally confirm the term. “It has good curative effects. In fact, just before the nuclear war, it’s a pretty prevalent way to treat wounds. The chemical also treats bone disease.”

“Fascinating.” He whispers, tone sarcastic, but he knows that Clarke is trying to change the atmosphere by talking about a technical topic she’s familiar with.

“Don’t worry though, I have no idea how to use these things without many of the cons.” She continues. “Plus the larvae thrive on dead bodies.” She laughs sardonically at that. “So I guess I’d stick with plants for now.”

He watches her walk as she tells him of plants, many she learned from Monty. She doesn’t return to the topic of flies, and he knows why, but he doesn’t say anything.

Eventually, walls of camp become visible and Clarke pauses her steps once more. He stands by her, arms almost touching her shoulders (something that comes automatically to him now), and he turns his head to look at her. She doesn’t look back for the first few seconds, until she turns her head slight so she can see him with her peripheral vision.

“Bellamy…,” She pauses (he muses how her voice is cracking), as she resumes her sights to the camp, the home that will no doubt resume occupying their time with new responsibilities. “I want to believe that someday everyone will have the luxury of seeing everything beautiful about this planet—like Octavia does—and even if they are just blow flies, you know?”

She then turns her head to him to meet his gaze. “Sometime this lifetime would be great.”

“Sooner is better.”He smiles widely, understanding her implications. “We—the two of us—will make sure that happens, won’t we?” He says with certainty, and not daring to take his eyes away from hers, nor does it occurs to him that he should.

And somewhere along the way their hands met for a brief, yet electrifying, touch.

 “Yeah, we will.”

.

.

**END**

**…**

**Hope you enjoyed reading,  
and I would really appreciate it if you leave your thoughts below. :D**


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